After He Was Gone: Chapter 2: Convergence
by Vitoria Morris
Summary: Quincey discovers who he has become and the new Dracula is selected. Predictable but important in order to understand the next chapter.


If you had not read the first installment, you may not understand what is going on for a little while. However, things will gradually become evident.

For those of you who have read the previous chapter, you have probably been guessing that Quincey and Elizabeth will fall in love, marry, and live happily ever after for all eternity. In order to be sustained, they will just visit the local butcher, (so as to avoid the killing of innocents) and everything will be right in the world. Once again, my dears, you would be wrong.

What actually happened is thus-

Quincey drank his tonic daily and gradually regained his strength. He and Elizabeth got along very well. However, the healthier he became, the stranger things seemed. He noticed that Craeschovia Castle was quite large, yet it seemed as though no one but Elizabeth dwelled there. In fact, all of his encounters with what he presumed to be other occupants were quite odd. For instance, one day as he was strolling about in one of the Northern turrets, he came upon a strange and unearthly man. This strange sir clad in a large black coat and his teeth were horribly grotesque. His hair was black as night and tangled, hanging over his eyes. Yet no amount of hair could hide that piercing gaze. Quincey stood there for a moment thinking of what to say to him, what questions to ask. However this mysterious gentleman ran before Quincey could utter a single syllable. Quincey chased him, but to no avail.

He returned to "his room", pondering this. He noticed that this was very similar to Harker's predicament during his stay at Castle Dracula. Perhaps he too was a prisoner. Never the less, he elected to keep up cheerful conversations with Elizabeth- his graceful rescuer…or perhaps captor.

As he decided this, she entered.

"Good afternoon, Quincey. How do you feel? If well, you may not need any tonic today," she said with a smile.

"Oh yes, I feel much better. I suppose I have no need for any today, although I must say, little girl, you are one excellent cook. That tonic tasted grand. Most of the tonics I drink taste right deplorable," he tried to hide his suspicions. Reflecting upon the tonics, those too were odd. _But how could such a sweet girl be…?_ He thought to himself.

"I'm glad you like it. It's a…special recipe…"

"Have I ever thanked you for saving me?"

"Yes. Besides, you being so well is thanks enough."

There was a long silence. Quincey felt terrible for suspecting someone so sweet of having such intentions. Elizabeth felt guiltier and guiltier for lying to him.

"You know," he thought out loud, "you look a lot like someone I knew."

"Who?"

"The girl I sought to marry. She chose another over me, and then _he_ killed her."

"I'm so sorry."

"No, it's fine. It's just…I remember how pale she looked when she was ill. I see that paleness in you and it terrifies me. At the same time, it makes me feel as though I'm not alone."

"Don't worry, I'm not ill. But the part about feeling alone- what do you mean?"

"I feel as though I'm not the only one who is lost and confused. I feel as though… You've lost someone you loved as well."

Elizabeth felt sick, she could not continue lying like this. She was on the verge of tears, when she heard wolves cry out in the distance. Quincey heard it too. It sounded like the words "It is time". How odd. Elizabeth looked frantic.

"I am sorry, but I don't wish to talk about that right now. Actually, I feel exhausted. I think I shall retire. Good-night!" with that, Elizabeth darted out of the room.

Maybe something was going on after all! Quincey followed her, but did so carefully so she would not know he was there. She went up several flights of stairs and entered a room that seemed to be at the very center of the castle. There was a large, lavish tapestry above the door. It depicted several men sitting around a table. They all seemed as living corpses. It was in that instant that Quincey was certain of what was transpiring. He _was_ being held captive!

If he was to escape, he had to know what was going on. He put his ear to the large wooden door and listened carefully.

The first voice was that of a man. It was robust and deep, "I hereby call this meeting to order."

A second belonged to a seemingly cynical woman, "Remind me again, who gave you _the right_ to call meetings to order?"

The first paused for a moment and responded, "Actually, I'm glad you asked that because as we all know, the task at hand is to establish a new leader. Now I think-"

"We all know who you want in charge," a third voice interjected, "but really we need someone who is a _capable_ leader."

"In other words, Ambrose," the second chimed in, "no one wants _you_ in charge."

Ambrose's voice grew angry, "Then who will we choose? Someone like Rhys?"

With this, a boy who Quincey presumed to be Rhys worriedly said, "I have no wish to lead. Please, do not give me this task." Rhys seemed quite young- seven perhaps.

The second's voice grew tender, motherly even, "No one is going to make you something against your will, Rhys," her voice grew harsh as she turned her attention to Ambrose, "Why are you always singling him out, Ambrose? He is only a child!" Everyone in the room muttered in agreement.

A fourth voice, an old sage broke the chatter, "We should choose a fledgling. One will have no ulterior motives or prejudices. We just have to find the right one." Once more, everyone muttered in agreement.

From there, each thought of fledglings to nominate.

"Maeve!"

"Abrecan!"

"Caflice!"

"Werian!"

"Fyren!"

"Brenna!"

"Yseult!"

"STOP!" the sage cried out.

"What is it, Elidor?" Ambrose asked with an annoyed tone.

Elidor continued, "Why not a flegleling who has never been seen in the village before? One who is a pretty thing and will therefore be able to penetrate any defense we may encounter?"

"I like where this is going, old man," replied the second. She was intrigued by the idea.

"But who?" Elidor thought aloud. After a moment of silence, Rhys spoke.

"Lizzy?"

"Yes, Rhys?" That was Elizabeth's voice! So his worst suspicions were true! He wanted to beat the door in anguish, but instead, continued to listen.

"What of the man you were caring for?"

There was a long silence. Quincey's heart beat loudly in his head. They were talking about him! Was he…?

"He…" she began, "He is only a man. I was just going to- I was going to kill him for his blood and-"

"Don't lie, child," Elidor cut her off.

Elizabeth broke down, "Alright, he is a fledgling named Quincey P. Morris. I found him in the snow a few days before he became one of us. He was the one who defeated Dracula."

"Then it is settled. We shall train him to be our new leader," Ambrose said through his teeth. He did not like this idea but could do nothing…yet.

"NO!" Elizabeth shouted.

"Why not?" Elidor was taken aback by her sudden outcry.

"He doesn't know yet. He won't…" she began to sob.

Quincey ran at this point. He could bear it no longer. He ran all over the castle finding no escape.Finally, he could run no more and sat in a windowsill watching the world go by.


End file.
